


In Our Mundane Corner of the World.

by PotatoJungwoo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoJungwoo/pseuds/PotatoJungwoo
Summary: { Another futile attempt at resistance had Theo on his feet, and for a moment he thought about dragging them both right over the edge, freedom in the void between cloud cover and the town below. A place like a puzzle, made up of so many pieces of memories made in tandem. But Scott deserved better. He always had. }





	In Our Mundane Corner of the World.

“So, sue me. The wifi out here is shit.” It was sometime past eight, upon the very fringes of a town that could survive without them for a while at least. At the crest of a hill which overlooked Beacon the skyline was exploding in a cacophony of late Summer colors. The air still hung heavily, laced with eagerly droning cicadas, and the last vestiges of a heat which dampened the skin at Theo's nape. They'd driven aimlessly when the sun was at it's highest, rolled the windows of an old clunker which once belonged to Stiles Stilinski down, and somehow a little tinkering, followed by some far less gentle persuasion on Theo's part had gotten the radio working again. Scott sang like no one was listening, like the wind could carry his voice to distant shores. Threw his head back, and laughed right down to his bones when a particularly off kilter high note ended with Theo's fist jabbing at his ribs. 

As that effervescent summer heat had said its goodbyes, along with the lazy stream of pedestrians and fellow vehicles that made Beacon feel more alive, so too did their own course wind down. Perhaps it was for the best, given the suspect noises which had begun to emanate from the engine of Stiles' old ride after their third hour of mapping all but the most obscure of the back roads. Scott had thrown them into park, remarking with blithe amusement that this very spot used to be some kind of lovers lane back in the day. There was a tease in his gaze, only knocked off of its axis when Theo took a step closer. Close enough to make a different kind of threat to the kinds which had landed him in deep shit more than once. Something which spoke of all those times he'd pretended to be so resolute in his hatred of other people that it became instinctual. And how Scott had thrown that consummate disgust into disarray, and taught him that his past was just that. Tragic. Understandable to few who cared to try, but irrevocable in it's distance from their current lives. 

“Not even a text. An emoji. Nothing. You do know how to use your phone, right?” That earned Scott another halfhearted punch. There was only so much one could do with fingertips dusted in powdered sugar, and a mouthful of soda. Besides, seeing him laugh. Charting the pace of a heart that no one could feel as in tune with as him. Feeling the connection which undercut the breeze which plucked at their clothes, transcending the sliver of distance between where they'd perched cross-legged at the overlook. All of it was worth taking a few knocks to an overstuffed ego.

They were pack, sans a sum of years that Theo still refused to speak about. Instead choosing to drown whatever private sorrows they contained into a pillow in the bed which they sometimes shared. He'd wake up frantic, consumed in equal measure by sorrow and fear; in the kind of cyclical routine that would have had a more conventional family reaching for the therapist's number. Yet, Theo remained; whole, sane, the only one who'd stayed in Beacon long after so many others had set sail for less tempestuous shores. Together they'd paved over old wounds, whilst keeping cautious eyes trained upon the underbelly of an otherwise mundane corner of the world. 

Maybe it wasn't enough for Theo's aspirations, but he stayed all the same. 

As the sun laid herself to rest, and the well of conversation slowly dried up, Theo shuffled closer. He'd never been demonstrative, not when it came to affection. Vibrant in temper, quick to find the insults which would gouge the deepest wounds, always ready to bicker with Liam over nothing, but oddly reserved when it came to anything approaching a positive. Yet, his head came to rest on Scott's shoulder. He'd blame it on an entirely fabricated sense of tiredness if pushed, and Scott never had been one to go prodding around when it felt like happiness was at stake. Even his voice barely constituted a murmur, relying solely upon the fact that neither of them were quite human enough any more to communicate what mere proximity did not. Warmth in the form of fingers worn down by delicate work, by saving those who Theo once would have considered irrelevant, curled around his palm. 

“We should go back soon.” Beacon had been transformed in a matter of minutes into a blinking switchboard from which the odd, distant purr of evening traffic and muffled voices emerged. A chill was threatening the air, but for now it was staved off by all the places where their bodies connected. 

“No, I...I don't want to go back there.” He could almost sense Scott's smile, melancholy undiluted, the kind of sympathy that, had it come from someone else, would have stoked Theo's less than understanding side. A gentle tug caught him off guard, eyes no more encumbered by the lack of light than those of a nocturnal beast. His own brimmed so suddenly, accompanied by an ache which tangled altered insides up around themselves, that it was almost frightening. Scott brushed old dirt and grass trimmings off of his bare knees, one hand still holding his own. He looked resigned, but the miserable melody inside his chest said otherwise. 

“You won't be hurting anymore. That's enough for me.” 

Laughter sounded foreign to his ears. A vibrant reminder of many lazy afternoons spent together finding out the true meaning of what it was to be pack. Of wasting time on pointless movies, running through the leaf strewn park until their lungs gave out, arguing over things that only mattered for as long as it took to kiss and make up. It never sounded quite so bitter, so utterly hopeless ringing out into an uncaring sky before. Another futile attempt at resistance had Theo on his feet, and for a moment he thought about dragging them both right over the edge, freedom in the void between cloud cover and the town below. A place like a puzzle, made up of so many pieces of memories made in tandem. But Scott deserved better. He always had. 

The very sight of him swum, submerged by a hot rush of tears as they crowded to make their way down Theo's cheeks. He hadn't cried like this in years. Didn't trust himself to stop if the dam finally broke. Believed, quite mistakenly that he hadn't the capacity to feel so profoundly bereft about anything. His lips moved, a retort in residence upon a tongue so capable of inflicting hurt, but then, just as abruptly Scott wasn't there any more. He was lying, sprawled out of necessity rather than any conscious intent, in the back of a truck which had been renamed home. Nursing a ragged hole in the center of his duplicitous chest; the site of where flesh and bone and all the notions which made him human used to live. It was too daunting of a wound this time, and piece by piece the periphery of each sense still in Theo's possession were beginning to steal away into the night. 

Bloodied lips formed something akin to a smile as he looked down at a familiar name in stalk letters on the screen of his phone. He would be there at the end, invading what few thoughts Theo had remaining to himself. Providing a single way-point in a life that never was, and never would be. Stubbornness still coated his lungs, and for a moment at least Theo hated himself for it. Nothing else. Just the notion that calling Scott as he lay prone, and likely dying, felt like the right thing to do. He was doing him a favor, doing the whole fucking lot of them a solid by dying in such a pedestrian way. No one would mourn. They hadn't the first time by the sound of things. He'd be just one more check mark in the endless list of names Beacon had claimed. And maybe that was all right. 


End file.
